


Lovely, isn't it?

by felixfreccles



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blood, But Jisung loves Minho, Don't read it if you get triggered by mentions of self-harm, Hanahaki Disease, Hyunjin loves Jisung, Idk if it'll have a happy ending, It's probably gonna be really dark, M/M, One-Sided Love, Suicidal Thoughts, hanahaki, or anything like that, or suicidal thoughts, this is gonna be really sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 07:46:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16058678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felixfreccles/pseuds/felixfreccles
Summary: "You made flowers grow in my lungs and although they are beautiful, I can't breathe."orIn which Jisung starts coughing up flower petals because of Minho and Hyunjin is ready to help his best friend in an instant, even if that means hiding his own flowers.





	1. Heartache.

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer !!  
> there's going to be tons of mentions of blood and stuff and it's probably gonna be super duper angsty, just you know. you've been warned now. 
> 
> i hope you like it,,, it's something i've wanted to write for a while and i finally did uwu.

Growing up, Hwang Hyunjin had heard of Hanahaki disease. His grandfather used to tell him stories about it, tell him about how one-sided love would make flowers grow in your lungs and you'd throw lovely, yellow petals up until it suffocated you. He'd have this pained look in his eyes, almost like he'd been the one to experience it, as he went on about how beautiful but heartbreaking it actually was. Hyunjin always wanted to ask how he knew so much about it, how he could talk about it like he'd gone through but the warning look he received from his father always stopped him and then once his grandfather passed away, so did his chance to know the truth. He never really believed it though. It seemed to unrealistic to him; how could flowers grow in your body? That wasn't possible. "It's just a myth" and "it's not real" he'd say and roll his eyes when he heard his friends talk about it and it was almost like God had wanted to prove to him that it was, in fact, very real when he was hit with it and the disease slowly started tearing his life apart. Maybe God was teaching him a lesson, he'd thought.

He still remembered the day it started. He'd been at practice late at night, refusing to leave before he nailed that one move in the dance. He pushed himself to dance, not caring that his body felt weaker than ever. He tried practicing the choreography he had learnt last week; a dance he was supposed to perform in front of hundreds of people at their debut stage but with each time, it was like his moves only got sloppier and more and more out of beat. He felt like screaming out of frustration since dance was the one thing he actually felt decent at but he couldn't even manage to do that right. He was main dancer! He was supposed to be good at this but at that moment, he felt horrible. He was panting heavily, his chest rising and falling with every breath, with his knees bent underneath him as he sat on them. His eyes were squeezed shut tightly and his lips were pressed together in a straight, firm line as he tried to calm down, tried to reassure himself that he was just tired and that he'd probably be able to do it in an instant tomorrow when he'd gotten some rest. The others had been able to do it instantly which just frustrated him even more. They'd nailed it last week as soon as it'd been taught and he'd been left standing, unable to do it right and feeling more useless than ever. Minho and Felix, the rest of dance line, had held him back after practice and tried to go through it with him bit by bit, explaining it over and over again but he couldn't do it. His body refused to let him; either he was too fast or too slow and both Minho and Felix had left after two hours, shooting him concerned looks on their way out as he insisted to stay and go over it by himself again. 

He'd been snapped out of his train of thought when a cough clawed its way up, scratching terribly at his throat. The sudden pain made him hunch over, one hand landing on the floor beneath him while the other shot up and clamped over his chapped lips. Maybe he was getting sick? Not that it'd make sense, since he'd be fine all day but his body sometimes worked weirdly. The scratching only got worse and it almost felt like something was stuck in his throat, and once he slowly pulled his hand away and allowed his eyes to flutter back open, beautiful, yellow flower petals laid elegantly in the palm of his hand came into view. It'd made his blood run cold, Hanahaki disease instantly entering his mind. It had sent a terrified feeling over him; he knew what it meant, he knew what it would lead to in the end. He also immediately knew who had caused it without even knowing and as he let his thought drift over to Han Jisung, another horrible cough echoed through the room and petals came flying up again. It had been the worst night of his life; it had been the night that he realized that he wouldn't get to live his dream with his loved ones. This disease, this stupid disease would kill him off before he could. It would rip the long life he had ahead of him away from him, preventing him from pursuing every little goal he'd ever had. It would ruin him, slowly and painfully and in the end, take his life. 

He hadn't told anyone, even after months of carrying it around. You could tell if you took a good look at him that something was off, for sure, but no one ever realized what it was. His eyes that normally had a bright, warm glint to them were red and bloodshot and dark, purple circles had found place against the pale skin under them. His face looked slim with an almost ghostly pallor, his sweaty clothes were always wrinkled and the lines around his mouth had vanished from the absence of a smile for a long time. He didn't look like himself at all but instead he looked exhausted, broken and ready to pass out. It was almost scary to see himself like that. In practice, his members would always send him worried looks and tell him to take a short break, get some air and water but he'd brush them off with a shake of his head and claim that he was fine, but would be forced to hurry to the bathroom minutes later to hunch over the toilet seat and cough up those beautifully deadly petals. They'd sometimes go after him and knock on the door. "Hyunjin, you okay?" they'd call out, to which he'd respond with a choked "I'm okay". He wasn't okay though. Not one bit. He now lived his life knowing that it could be ripped from his slender fingers at any moment and he'd leave his family and friends feeling guilty and questioning why they hadn't noticed. It haunted him and his muddled mind at every minute of every day and he constantly felt anxiety slivering under his skin and creeping its way up his back. He was terrified and as it only got worse, everything else did too. At some point, the yellow flowers crawling up his throat had turned crimson, soaked in blood; his blood. Even breathing was becoming a struggle, almost like thorns penetrating through his lungs every time he tried to. He could feel the flowers grow bigger and bigger in his lungs, slowly taking up the space he had for oxygen and it was warning him that he didn't have much time left. 

He'd had the hope of Jisung maybe loving him back, of course. Sometimes he'd lie at night, staring at the ceiling and wondering if maybe he felt the exact same way. He contemplated if he should maybe just pour out his feelings, tell him exactly how he made him feel and maybe that would be what saved him. He imagined what it would be like to hear "I love you too, Jinnie" and feel his airway open up again and the flowers die in his body. He'd think of Jisung's sleeping, peaceful figure and consider just going over there and asking him if he felt the same way but then his anxiety would stop him. He'd start imagining what would happen if Jisung didn't feel the same way, how their relationship would crumble. He'd imagine how guilty the younger would feel if he found out about the disease; that he was the cause of it without even realizing. He'd imagine how guilty and heartbroken he'd leave the boy feeling once the flowers finally took up all the space in his lungs and suffocate him. Jisung would think it was his fault and that if he'd done something, it could've been prevented and that stopped Hyunjin from doing everything he'd previously considered. He couldn't get himself to do it. He just couldn't. 

And he'd been proven right soon enough; Jisung didn't love him back. 

They'd been at practice, going over their dances, when the Han had rushed out of the room with his face burrowed in the fabric of his over-sizied hoodie. His hair had been matted and clinging to his sweaty forehead - but he somehow managed to still look heart-warmingly cute - and his eyes had had this unforgettable, fearful look glinting in them. Hyunjin, more concerned than ever, had hurried after him, calling a "I'll check on him" over his shoulder at the others before bursting through the door and after his best friend. As soon as he'd entered the bathroom and eyes had landed on the boy leaning against the wall with yellow flower petals decorating the white sink, he felt his heart drop to his stomach. Jisung looked exhausted and horrified as he slumped against the wall, tears escaping the corner of his eyes and crawling down the pale skin of his cheeks. He looked broken and hopeless and it made Hyunjin's heart ache and if he could take all of the pain away, he would in an instant. Taking a few delicate steps towards the brunet, he hoped desperately that his voice wouldn't crack as he spoke, "Jisung, what's going on?" He knew what was going on. He'd gone through the exact same thing after all.

Jisung peeled his teary eyes open, as he gripped onto the side of the sink so hard that his knuckles turned white. His face curled up as a choked sob emitted from the back of his throat, the sound ripping through Hyunjin's ears and leaving a mark on his heart. His pained eyes bore into his member's as he broke down again, hand reaching up to cover his mouth. His lungs rummaged for oxygen, and his sobbing had the same force of someone drowning. The flesh under his ribcage throbbed, his cheeks burned and his mind created memories and scenarios that made the tears continue. He croaked out, "It's Minho."

As soon as those two words reached Hyunjin's ear he felt like his world came crashing down completely. The last bit of hope he'd had left; hope that Jisung loved him back and that he could be cured, was ripped from between his trembling fingers and thrown away and all he could do was watch as it disappeared into nothing. Now he was hopeless and the only cure left was getting surgery but getting surgery had the consequence of never being able to fall in love again. Hyunjin couldn't go through that, meaning that now he was truly helpless. There was no way to help him anymore; he was going to die at some point, all of a sudden and there was nothing anyone could do about it. He didn't say anything though, he didn't voice his thoughts or scream out in pain and frustration or give in to the tears pressing on behind his eyes. Instead, he ignored the way his lower lip quivered as he closed the space between them and slithered his arms around his best friend tightly. His eyes fluttered shut, long lashes resting delicately against his pale skin, as he pressed his cheek against Jisung's hair and allowed the boy to cry into his shoulder. It was painful to see him like that. All Hyunjin could do was embrace him and let the torrent of his tears soak through his shirt. He could feel the Han male clench his fists, not knowing whether to be mad or to give up hope all together. He could hear him silently screaming, suffocating with each breath he took. He ran his fingers through his brown hair soothingly, in an attempt to calm the silent war within his mind.

"I don't know what to do, Jinnie," he whispered, his voice fragile and faint as he gripped onto the thin fabric of his member's sweaty, black t-shirt. He was too innocent for this, Hyunjin couldn't help but think. He had such a kind, selfless heart and the dancer wondered why it was always the best people who suffered the most. He thought about how Jisung would have to go through what he'd gone through; all of the helpless cries, the stifled sobs, the feeling of your body slowly shutting down, the lack of sleep, the struggle to breathe properly, the need to keep it all a secret from your loved ones and pretend that you aren't actually dying, the constant fear of the sickness finally making you take your last breath before you choke on your own blood. His heart burned his his chest, pumping against his ribcage and threatening to break out. His knees felt like jelly, like they were going to give out from underneath him and he'd fall to the ground helplessly. His head was spinning and the only thing heard was his galloping heart pounding in his ears. Tears were threatening to pool over and spill out onto his cheeks but he refused to let them. He had to stay strong though. For Jisung. 

It was almost weird how much someone else's pain could affect you. It was scary, in a way. 

Hyunjin gulped, the lump sliding down his throat uncomfortably slow. He was scared to speak, scared that his voice would crack and then he wouldn't be able to hold it in anymore. He was scared that he'd start coughing as well and give himself away; it was pretty hard to miss the bloody petals slipping from his lips. He was scared of the future, scared of what it had to bring and how much "future" he actually had left. He didn't show any of it though, he kept it all bottled up inside his messy head as he tried assuring his best friend, "We'll find a c-cure, okay? I promise you, Jisung, that this stupid sickness won't consume your life."

He wouldn't let it. Not like it had done with him.


	2. Lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING ! WARNING ! WARNING !  
> do NOT read this if you get triggered by suicidal thoughts! this book in general is probably gonna be REALLY dark and it's gonna contain some dark topics that i know some people get triggered by. you've been warned.

It'd been a few weeks since Jisung had become another victim of Hanahaki disease.

Hyunjin had been sick with worry ever since. He'd constantly be thinking of ways to save the boy, since he refused to let him die at the hands of the sickness. He'd tried to think of ways to ask Minho about Jisung, just to find out exactly how he felt, and ways to then make him fall in love with the squirrel-looking boy. He'd considered offering the surgery to Jisung, even though he, himself, had turned it down. He was just determined to find some way to save him, he didn't care what he had to do or what it costed. Jisung was too good to die like this. Too kind and innocent. Hyunjin had tried to stick by his side as much as possible, wanting to remind him that that he wasn't alone, and offer him help when he could. When the Han would rush off to the toilet, he'd follow and rub his back as the flowers creeped up his throat painfully. When he'd stay home while everyone else went out, simply because he felt like death or didn't want to risk them finding out, Hyunjin stayed as well. "I'll take care of him" he'd assure their members, to which they'd share a questioning look before nodding and leaving. 

His own sickness got worse, just like Jisung's did. He hadn't even thought it was possible, but the scratching and clawing he felt against his throat worsened. He spent countless nights, thinking about Jisung and his nearing death, meaning he ran on barely one hour of sleep every day. He felt weak in his limps and simple movement hurt, sending an aching feeling through his body. Little by little, oxygen was becoming very hard to obtain. He was honestly surprised that he was still alive after more than three months of living like this. He'd googled it and apparently the victims would normally only make it through two or three months. It just meant that he die at any moment now, though; a thought that haunted his mind 24/7. Despite his state weakening, he cared more about Jisung though. Jisung was more important, he'd tell himself when he was the one clutching the toilet seat as he puked up the crimson petals and he'd start feeling guilty; guilty that he wasn't helping Jisung at that moment. It was dumb, if you thought about it. He obviously needed more care than the other, but love does weird things to you, right?

Hyunjin inhaled deeply, trying not to flinch or hiss at the stinging feeling it sent through his ribcage, as he closed the door behind him and reached up to turn the lock. After having heard the click, he whirled around to face his best friend, brows furrowed and brown eyes filled with concern. Jisung almost sounded like he was choking as now bloody flowers flew from his mouth and landed beautifully against the white porcelain in the toilet. He had one hand etched in his dyed hair, pulling harshly at his roots while the other one gripped the seat. His eyes were squeezed shut tightly, almost like he expected it to help. The sight had been burned into Hyunjin's mind; he'd seen it so many times by now. The Hwang pushed himself off of the door, sauntering towards his suffering member and crouching down beside him. He could feel a cough sneaking its way up, slowly yet deadly, but he ignored it. His hand slid up, finding place on Jisung's covered back as his eyes studied the other's face carefully. He took in every little detail; the forming bags under his eyes, the sweat glistening against his forehead, his rosa, chapped (but still kissable) lips, the way his face curled up in pain, showing every little emotion he was feeling. He wore his heart on his sleeve, always had. It wasn't hard to read him.

Jisung's grip loosened on both his locks and the toilet as he allowed himself to just fall back against the wall with a heavy, yet shaky sigh emitting from between his lips. His eyes were still closed and if it hadn't been for the pained expression and sweaty adorning his pale skin, he'd almost looked peaceful. He slumped against the wall, leaning his head back and just letting his body relax for a moment. Relax as much as he could, at least. It was kind of hard not being tense, when flowers were slowly growing in your lungs and killing you. He looked broken, like he'd lost all hope completely and just accepted that this was going to be how he died. 

Hyunjin ran his tongue across his plump lips, wetting them, before he swallowed harshly, reached up behind him and used his thumb and index finger to tuck a piece of paper out of the machine on the wall. Curling it up a little, he then shuffled a little closer to his best friend and extended it towards him. His eyes ere fixated on the Han's lips, blinking, as he dabbed it against the corner of his lips in hope of getting the blood that coated his skin, off. Their faces were so close Hyunjin could feel the boy's hot breath against his skin and he could probably point out every little detail if he wanted to. It made Hyunjin's burning heart pump in his chest and pound in his ears, and leaning in and planting a kiss on Jisung's lips was tempting but he refrained. It would be selfish of him to do so.

"I can't do this anymore, Jinnie," the Han's whole body shook as another choked, gut-wrenching sob racked through him and a fresh set of tears prickled at his eyes, threatening to spill over. He looked like someone who'd already accepted and come to terms with the fact that a sickness was tearing him apart from the inside, slowly and painfully, and was ripping his life from his hands; all of his dreams, his memories, his goals. He looked like someone who just wanted to get it over with already, someone who had suffered enough. It had only been a few weeks though and it was only going to get worse. Hyunjin had gone through the exact same thing, he'd thought that it couldn't get any worse but as time went by, Hanahaki disease proved him wrong. He was wrong. So wrong. 

It was hard for Hyunjin to not just give into the pressure he was feeling behind his eyes. Every part of him wanted to just burst into tears right there, to let it all go and put down his strong facade for once. He was tired of acting all tough and okay, like he didn't feel like everything was falling apart. He was tired of pretending like his death wasn't nearing, getting closer and closer with each second and like everything, even breathing, hadn't become a struggle to him. He could barely get through the day anymore. All the moving around, the practicing, the school, it definitely didn't help his situation. The dancer shakily inhaled, trying his hardest to not break down so he could stay strong in front of his best friend, and after having thrown the now bloody piece of tissue in the trashcan behind him, his hand slid over Jisung's cold one, fingers intertwining as he gave them a gentle, comforting squeeze, "It's going to be okay, Sungie, I promise. M-Minho probably likes you back."

The chance of Minho liking him back wasn't small. Jisung could still be saved, unlike Hyunjin. The Hwang had started noticing how they acted around each other after he'd discovered how Jisung liked the older. He'd noticed the touchiness, the lingering eyes, the fond smiles. Hyunjin honestly felt stupid for not having noticed it before; of course, the Han didn't like him, he was just stupid for getting his hopes up. And even though it marked his heart painfully, he still just wanted Jisung to be happy. That was what was most important to him, whether he liked it or not. If Hyunjin had to sit and watch - and maybe help - the two end up together and be happy, he would do it in a heartbeat.

"You should probably h-head out now, the others are most likely getting worried," the dancer stuttered, panic rising up in him as the cough clawed its way up his throat. He needed to get Jisung out of there first, if he didn't want to risk exposing himself. They'd been in the bathroom for what felt like an eternity but was actually only ten minutes, and while ten minutes weren't that long, it was still enough to worry their members. Especially Chan. Hyunjin scrambled to his feet, forced to grab onto the sink so he didn't fall right back down, and he quickly extended a hand down towards his best friend.

"Aren't you coming?" Jisung questioned in a voice so fragile and confused, it made the other want to go with him and drape an over his shoulder and hold his hand as they re-entered the practice room. He couldn't do, he had to stay so he didn't start coughing while dancing or anything. The Han's slender fingers curled around his own and he allowed himself to be pulled up, which wasn't very hard sent a wave of concern over the oldest of the two but he didn't say anything. Instead, he just kept his grip on the hand and tucked the shorter boy towards the door, unlocked it and then gestured for him to walk out as he shook his head with a forced, apologetic smile and said that he had to pee quickly. Jisung sent a deep frown his way but didn't say anything and headed out nonetheless, leaving Hyunjin to close the door behind him.

As soon as it was shut, the broken dancer stumbled towards the toilet as the flowers in his lungs stopped holding back and came flying out along with a thick layer of his blood. He coughed harshly, desperate to get the petals out so he could leave. Both his hands were gripping the toilet seat as he hunched over, eyes squeezed shut in pain. As he sat there, throwing up the beautiful flowers that would soon be the cause of his destruction, he felt completely and utterly hopeless. There was no point in even fighting anymore, his last chance to survive had been thrown in the trash and lost forever. He'd given up already and it terrified him a little.

There were days, where Hyunjin wished he had never even been born. Everything would have been easier then. He wouldn't have had go through all the agonizing, the endless suffering, the anxiety constantly slivering under his skin and most importantly, no one would've had him to lose. He wouldn't have had to go through any of it, but that also meant not experiencing every little happy, joyful memory he had. 

Some days, he considered ending it all already. The thought of choking on his own blood, the inability to breathe at all haunted him and he'd rather leave in any other way. He'd found himself staring at his filled bathtub at times, eyes scarred, wanting to dive in and never come back up. He'd found himself staring at the bottle of pills in his family's cabinet, bottom lip quivering, as he considered swallowing a handful and letting them rip him apart from the inside rather than his disease. He'd found himself fishing out the razors hidden deep behind all of their stuff in the bathroom, body feeling weak and on the verge of giving up, as he wondered if running them up against his arms would be easier. He'd always stopped himself though; he was too much of a coward to do it.

A loud bang! ripped him from his thoughts, along with a questioning yell of his name, and his head snapped towards the door, his eyes filled to the brim with tears and a crimson color painting his lips and sneaking down his chin. It was Chan and, in all honesty, Hyunjin should've known that the leader would come out and call for him eventually with that concerned, desperate tone he'd gotten to know too well over the past few months. Chan, being the good leader he was, was the one who checked on him the most and he was constantly trying to figure out what was up, which was understandable since he was the leader of a group that was about to debut and, of course, he wanted all members to be okay and healthy. He was just doing his job as not only the head of the team, but also as a best friend.

Hyunjin heaved, not being able to find his own voice, as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, lashes pushing against his skin, almost as if he was hoping it would block out the world. His chest ached, it burned, feeling like someone was shoving their hand into his ribcage and tearing it apart. His head was spinning, his limps were sloppy, his muscles screamed at him as he tried to speak up but he ended up just croaking faintly, hoarsely, "I-I'm fine, hyung." It was lie and he was sure that Chan could figure out in an instant. It honestly made him feel dumb; he should've tried better. This could be the cause of his exposure.

The door shook gently and Hyunjin could imagine the older having leaned against it, placing his ear by the wood and sighing heavily. "Jinnie, you need to tell me what's going on," he'd obviously had enough as he replied, his honey voice soft and warm, letting the younger know that it was only because he wanted to help. It sent a guilty feeling crashing over Hyunjin, overwhelming him in an instant; he was sending them into deep pits of worry, making them constantly wonder what was happening to their best friend and making them offer their help, but he was refusing to give them any explanation (well, he couldn't) and turned them down every single time. They yearned to help him, yet he was just pushing them further and further away. 

The Hwang's hand loosened around the toilet seat and slid up, landing in his brown locks and pushing them away and out of his closed eyes. He wanted to pour his heart out, tell his friend about every single thing that had dragged him back under surface and closer to the bottom. He wanted to ask for Chan's help, he wanted to finally just let the whole facade down and stop acting like everything was fine. He didn't though, because that was another thing he was too much of a coward to do. He couldn't get himself to bother the older, to force all of his own problems onto Chan's back when there was already so much pressure and stress of being the leader. He couldn't, so he didn't. Instead, Hyunjin tried sucking in a deep, shaky breath but stopped the he felt the stinging in his lungs as he repeated the exact same thing he'd said so many times; the thing he'd lied about through gritted teeth countless times, "There's nothing going on, C-Chan hyung. I'm okay."

He needed a miracle, he truly did. Hyunjin had never believed in miracles though, realizing at an early age that shooting stars never came by twice, that magical creatures didn't grant his wishes, that good things seemed to happen to everyone but him. Maybe he didn't deserve a miracle, maybe that was it. Maybe that was what the universe had been trying to tell him when they gave him so many people to lose, when they made him fall hard and tragically for someone who'd never return his love, when they cast a curse over him and gave him Hanahaki disease and forced him to watch his life slowly fall apart. That he didn't deserve good things and happy endings and granted wishes. Hyunjin was always going to be the villain, who ended up locked in a tower, hopeless and broken, watching the prince and princes - or princes - fall in love and get married and live happily ever after as his life was slowly but painfully ripped from his hands. He wasn't mean to end up with the love of his life and live happily ever after, he was meant to suffer until it finally tore him apart and caused his death.

"Come out soon, okay, Hyunjinnie?" Chan released a defeated sigh after having been turned down yet again, when he was simply concerned. He was well aware that something was going on with the younger, it was pretty obvious to anyone, and he hated the idea of the dancer carrying it all around on his shoulders alone and bottling it all up and until it broke him. He didn't want that and no matter how much he was struggling with himself, the Bang would take it all on his own shoulders in an instant if he could. Hyunjin was too young, too pure to be suffering so much, he always thought, even though he was only three years older.

The taller, yet youngest of the two bobbed his head up and down into a light nod briefly before realizing that the older couldn't actually see him and quickly stuttering his way through a "yeah, I-I'll be out in a bit". Hearing the door shake, signaling that Chan had pushed himself off, and the footsteps get faint, Hyunjin allowed his tense shoulders to relax and his head to fall back against his arm as he exhaled in relief. Then moments later, he dried the blood off of his lips and chin with shaky hands, he rubbed the tears out of his broken eyes, he forced a tight, reassuring smile onto his pale features and then he exited the bathroom and headed back towards the practice room and ignored how eight pairs of uncertain eyes lingered on him, like he always did.

He'd honestly gotten used to it by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second chapter !! hope you liked it uwu. it's not edited yet so sorry if there were any mistakes or anything.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @/felixfreckies   
> instagram: @/HYUNJLNNLE  
> dm if you have any questions or just wanna talk uwu.


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